Mind Field
by Flying Penguinz
Summary: Claire and Myrnin embark on an unintentional journey through a world of dreams, where time is - literally - of the essence. Too late, Myrnin tells Claire the only way out is their conscience's death, a scar that could eat them from the inside out.
1. Midnight Madness

**So, this changes perspectives. It starts out with Myrnin's, then switches to Claire's, and then back and forth. You guys are smart, you'll get it.**

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><p><em>Myrnin stumbled out of Ada's arms and, as soon as she let go, he realized just how cold her embrace had been. He closed his eyes tightly as he felt the knife in his chest take its toll on his body.<em>

_ He waited to die._

And then he woke up.

.

Claire was sleeping peacefully when Myrnin came crashing through her bedroom door and shook her roughly.

"Claire, wake up, please," he said. "I know you're here. I know I'm here. I know you've been here. And I've been here for quite some time. So I realize it must be later than I think. And yet, I know your name. How odd. But, Claire, please. Tell me what year we're in."

Claire rubbed her eyes, blinking up at her crazed boss. "Myrnin." She looked at her digital alarm clock next to the side of her bed. "It's not even two a.m. yet. What are you doing here?"

Myrnin completely ignored her, becoming frustrated that she hadn't answered his question yet. "I'm here. I'm sure of it. This couldn't be another..." He continued his endless gibberish, poking his stomach and prodding the foot of Claire's bed.

Claire recognized the gleam in his eye. It was the shined-over look of mania that liked to visit Myrnin ever so often. Forgetting the ratty pajamas she was wearing, she got out of her bed and put a gentle hand on his arm. The muscles that moved under the familiar frock coat reminded her all too well of the possible danger she was in. Myrnin could make one lithe move and she'd be dead.

But he stilled at her touch. His eyes did not glance at her, though. They stared at a blank space on her wall. His lips continued moving in almost-silent words, but Claire could make it out. "This isn't real... Myrnin, wake up," he told himself. "This is _not_ real." Claire's brows furrowed as he brushed her away and started pacing.

"Myrnin, I'm real." She wondered what was wrong with him while scrutinizing his tired, insane face.

"That's what they all said, Claire. Amelie, Oliver, Bishop, and you." He scrubbed his face with his hands. Claire heard the pain in his voice when he said, "Even Ada told me she was real. And I believed her."

"Well, how can I prove it?" she asked, trying not to let Myrnin's crazy talk get her worried.

"Only I can prove it," he said, shaking his head. "But it could cost me if this is not the reality I know."

"What is it?"

Myrnin didn't answer. He stopped pacing and laid himself out on the floor and closed his eyes, resting his hands on his stomach, neatly folded. "One... Two... Three..." His quiet counting went on, but with between each number, there was a longer pause. By the time he got to fifteen, he was counting slowly in his head, she could see from the way his lips moved silently. When he was done he jolted out of his sleep-like state and was suddenly standing, having used his vampire speed.

"It worked," he said, a slight smile appearing on his lips. "You _are_ real."

"Like I was saying," Claire said indignantly, as if it had offended her that Myrnin hadn't believed her. "What is this all about?" she asked.

It looked as though Myrnin wanted to say something. As if the answer was protruding from his mouth. But he quickly sucked it back in and swallowed it whole. "I'll tell you tomorrow morning. Meet me in the lab at ten," he said, excited.

And he disappeared before Claire could remember to tell him what year it was.

.

Myrnin swept out of Claire's room where he had left her in an unkempt state, standing there in ratty sleeping clothes. He left the Glass House through a portal and entered his lab. His home.

Myrnin tried to shake away the cobwebs of the dream he had just so recently left. But the thin strands of memory would not leave him alone. Ada's cool touch still remained on his arms and the feeling of disorientation was also present.

He was soon lost in his mutterings and pacing until Claire entered his lab that morning, looking presentable and curious.

.

"Myrnin?" Claire asked tentatively, taking a step into the shack.

"Down here," came his familiar voice.

She walked down the stairs and entered the red glow emitting from one of Myrnin's retro lamps, the sanguine-colored shade turning the light red and spilling it across the room. He was pacing, as usual, and his form looked eerie in the red lighting.

"2011," she said.

"What?" he asked, stopping his pacing and looking at her oddly.

"You asked what year it was last night. It's 2011."

Realization sparked in the back of his dark eyes. "Oh, yes," he said, nodding. His eyes fell from her gaze and he stared at her shoes. Claire shifted uncomfortably. Were her Converse not up to par with his pirate boots, she wondered as Myrnin's eyebrows furrowed.

"Claire, I—" he stopped himself and shut his mouth.

She raised her own brows questioningly.

"I have to show you something," he said. And then he retreated to a back room. After a moment's hesitation, Claire followed.

He was standing in one of his back rooms. One entirely empty except for a simple cot and a complicated machine. One with wires of several different colors strung protruding from the contraption and coming together in an awkward rainbow, meeting at a plug stuck into an outlet. There were also a few wires that came out of the machine and ended with little white plastic disks, attached to nothing and lying on the cot.

Myrnin looked up after she entered. "It's a time machine."

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><p><strong>As always, reviews would be great. <em> Please<em> tell me what you think. **

**Maybe guess as to what happens next?**

**You'll never figure it out.**

**[Watches your 'Challenge Accepted' faces]**

**Go for it.**


	2. Vampire Sleeping

He gauged her reaction to his device closely.

"A—a what?" she sputtered.

"Well, not a time machine _exactly_," he said. "Nothing more but your _perception_ of time."

Claire looked puzzled. "What?" she repeated.

"I created it a few weeks ago, the intention being to try and create another dimension of a sort, but I came up with this. I believe I've made a machine that allows you to enter a realm of memories—sort of—, but one where time is essential to existence in the place. Time isn't the same there."

She slumped against the frame of the door. "I don't understand. First, explain the 'sort-of memories.'"

"You can't dream of a person you've never met. Nor can you dream of somewhere you've never been. So these places and people are all from memories, but they can be rearranged to create new places. Like using the same building blocks to make new structures."

"I still don't get it."

Myrnin's eyes closed, wondering if sharing this with Claire was a good idea. But he had already told her; there was no going back now.

"It's like creating a whole new interaction with a person," he said, wishing he could just put the basic idea what he was trying to say in her mind.

"Like a dream? Like, I could make up this whole scenario where I talk to Amelie about... I don't know... a raise?" she asked.

Myrnin scoffed at her priorities.

"Something of the sort. Yes, I suppose so. But then there's another part of this you have to factor in: time."

"What about it?"

"In the beginning, your mind can usually keep a constant biological clock, but then you begin to wonder how long you've been away. And if you don't keep a consistent perception of time, things in the dream start to slow down. You start forgetting where you are and realize how the place you're in isn't reality; your thinking begins to get slower. Everything in the dimension _slows_."

.

_What had he done?_ It was _brilliant_—but absolutely insane. A bit like Myrnin, she thought.

"And what happens when it does?" she asked, straightening her posture against the door frame slightly.

"You begin to feel yourself slipping away from your hold on the world and deteriorate until you're hardly anything." Myrnin touched the little machine gently.

Claire was confused again. "You said you made this just a few weeks ago?"

"Yes."

"How many times have you gone over to this... this dream world?" It was too obvious that he'd been in it. He knew what he was talking about.

"Just once."

"Last night?" she asked.

"Yes."

"You experienced all this?"

"I—...yes," he said sheepishly.

"Why are you telling me?"

"I wanted you to help me experiment with it."

.

"Absolutely _not_," she said, looking mortified Myrnin had even thought to say it aloud.

Even though he'd been expecting it, Myrnin felt disappointment. He didn't know why he asked her. Perhaps this was something he should have just kept to himself. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Why did he need Claire? She would be nothing but a liability.

He nodded, feigning sympathy. "I'm sorry," he said. "It was quite irrational. You may go home, Claire."

Claire's eyes narrowed at his quick surrender. "Was it that easy? I just had to say no?" Her head tilted to the side. "Usually I have to threaten to tell Amelie to get you out of the idea of a crazy experiment."

"Even I realize how crazy this particular experiment was. It was irresponsible. Forgive me."

Claire nodded, but her eyes showed mistrust. "Okay. Sure." And she left him, allowing the consequences of his actions to sink in like they always did.

.

After the encounter with Myrnin, it was the start of another lazy day at the Glass House.

Saturday meant laundry. And it was Claire's week. So while Eve and Shane shouted at each other over a video game, Claire sprayed stain-remover on clothes downstairs and threw them in the washing machine one by one.

_ Myrnin is crazy_, she thought as one especially barbeque-stained shirt passed through her hands. He couldn't just make a machine where he could create a false reality for himself. It was entirely unethical. In Claire's opinion, anyway.

And her mind reeled back to the apology she'd gotten earlier from him. Not as much of an apology as him waving a little white flag.

_He just wanted me off his back_.

The truth of the matter was that Myrnin had pushed Claire away so he could do something else she wouldn't approve of.

"Crap," Claire said as she noticed what she was doing with the laundry. She was pouring bleach on a black, skull-and-crossbones shirt. Since Eve's shirt was really the least of Claire's worries at the moment, she continued thinking.

How could it have taken her so long to notice? Claire checked her watch. It had been half an hour since she'd left Myrnin's lab and she wondered what Myrnin could accomplish in such a small amount of time.

Too much.

Claire threw Eve's ruined shirt in the washer and set the bleach upright in another basket of clothes sitting on the dryer. She opened a portal and stepped through, entering the lab the exact same way she'd left it.

Myrnin was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he had gone to the Blood Bank? She winced as soon as the thought crossed her mind because she knew how untrue it was. Myrnin was in the small room with the machine, there was no doubt about it.

Claire walked to the back rooms and recognized the one Myrnin had brought her to. She opened the door and, lo and behold, there was Myrnin lying on the cot with his hands folded over his stomach; on his temples were the white disks that were connected to the wires that led to the machine.

_He'd hooked himself up_.

And he wasn't looking well at all. Pink sweat was shining on Myrnin's forehead. And though his posture looked peaceful, his face did not show it. Myrnin's face was contorted with a sort of grief. His brows were furrowed and his lips were parted slightly, as if there were a cry he wanted to shout but was unable to get past his open mouth.

"_ADA!_" he yelled, startling Claire.

Apparently he _was_ capable of speech.

Claire jumped, her heart began to race, and she felt the tips of her fingers become numb as the seriousness of the situation washed over her in an unpleasant wave of anxiety.

"Myrnin?" she asked, moving closer to the little cot he was on. "Can you hear me?" There was no response. "Myrnin, are you okay?" A small whimper came from him and the air became thick with Claire's indecision.

There was an extra set of those brain-connector things that Myrnin had probably provided for her. Should she have said yes when he asked if she wanted to join his little experiment. She couldn't leave Myrnin to get help. Could she wake him?

Claire moved over to the cot and touched his shoulder. Claire had never known a vampire to be in such a sleep-like state—minus stake-induced comas.

She shook him slightly. "Myrnin." He didn't stir. Claire slapped his shoulder, but he didn't show any sign of feeling it. Claire took both of Myrnin's shoulders in her small hands and shook him as hard as she could, shouting, "Wake _up_, Myrnin!" Yet again, Myrnin showed no reaction to Claire's futile attempts at waking him.

She stepped back and looked at the machine. There was no power switch or 'off' button.

"Myrnin? You. Are. An. _Idiot_."

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><p><strong>The next chapter gets a lot more interesting. I promise.<strong>

**Keep reviewing.**


	3. Ada and Amelie

**Thank you to my (very few) reviewers. **

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><p>Ada was grabbing a knife and preparing to plunge it into her heart.<p>

"NO, _ADA!_" Myrnin screamed. He couldn't lose her again.

"I'm sorry, Myrnin. It has to be this way. It's our destiny, you know. To be separated." But Myrnin stopped it. He slowed time. He counted.

"One. Two. Three…" And then he dragged out the numbers, longer after each one. At five, the scene began to slow considerably. He saw Ada's hand inching toward her chest and saw a wineglass get knocked off a table in slow motion. And then Claire materialized.

"Claire!" His counting halted abruptly as he turned. Her eyes were wide at the scene laid out before her.

Myrnin hadn't counted far enough for the time in this dimension to be stopped completely, and Myrnin saw as Ada's hand began to slide closer to her target and the scene picked up right where it left off in a normal pace. Claire's perception of time was in tune to the real world's and her thoughts were being fed to the machine.

And Myrnin watched his only true love die. For the second time in his existence.

.

Claire felt her heart pounding against her rib cage. She tried desperately to remind herself that this wasn't real. That this had not _really_ just happened. But the image of it was so sharp and fresh in her mind, she couldn't believe it.

"Claire, what are you doing here," Myrnin said in a broken voice. She looked up at his tear-filled eyes that were staring at Ada's motionless body that was lying in an expanding pool of blood.

"You were shouting. I thought something was wrong. I couldn't find a way to get you out of here without hurting you or something. I—wasn't thinking. I thought maybe I could help you get out." She looked around the room she was in. It was old. She could tell because the walls were made out of stone and there were outdated vials and tools scattered around.

"Claire," he said slowly, almost as if he were about to explode. "You shouldn't have come here. The only way to exit this place is to have someone on the outside remove the connectors from our minds."

Her mouth went dry. _I could have just removed the connectors? _"But I thought that may have hurt you." He shook his head. _We can't get out of here?_ In Claire's fear, she'd been quick to think. Too quick. And consequently, she'd made a stupid choice.

But at that thought, the whole room swirled and then Myrnin and Claire were surrounded by black.

.

"Don't panic," Myrnin said, reaching for Claire's trembling arm. "This is normal." All he could see was her and himself and the vast, dark void. Myrnin felt terrible for bringing Claire into this. He needed to get her out. But him? Myrnin would stay.

Claire moved closer to him in the blackness and her scared eyes looked up at him, and he could practically feel the guilt Claire was experiencing.

Myrnin decided not to comment on Ada's death and pretend like he was not fazed by it.

"All we have to do is wait for an image to appear to fill up this space," he said lightly, gesturing to the emptiness around them.

"Wait?" her small voice asked. "I thought this place is for memories. Why can't one of us just imagine something?"

"Because we're in a dream-like world. You don't choose what you're going to dream, do you?" She shook her head, but as she did, a scene swirled into being.

Suddenly, they were standing in Amelie's office at night, watching the Founder pace from one side of the room to another.

"Ah, Claire, you've arrived," she said in a strange voice, not bothering to raise her beautiful head and glance up at them. "And you've brought Myrnin like I asked. Thank you for being timely about it." The way she spoke was guarded, as if there was a thin veneer over her voice—a veil that didn't completely mask something just below the surface. Myrnin could tell it was something sad.

He saw Claire give him a wide-eyed look. The 'What should we do?' in it was very clear. He shook his head only slightly, throwing her the smallest of movements, hoping she'd caught it.

"Amelie?" he asked, watching his friend move from one end of the room to the other. Amelie only paced under the worst of circumstances; she was usually so calm and collected that she possessed the ability to keep still. "What's wrong?" And that was when he saw a shimmering tear fall off Amelie's cheek, caught in the luminescence of a glowing lamp. Its perfection juxtaposed the brokenness of the thing—the beautifully pitiful tear.

"We have to find a way to get Samuel back," she said in a quick rush of words. The hasty sentence was filled with anger, sadness, and desperation. "He's not really gone." Her pale, flawless eyes went up to greet his.

There was something in those eyes that reminded Myrnin of when they would go horseback riding through rolling hills at night—when she was just barely a fledgling. Back when her heart wasn't tainted with incredible amounts of both knowledge and power. When he could look into her eyes and he could read everything she had because she had nothing to hide—when Amelie was only a shallow girl.

Through this desperation she now had, all of the coldness that encased Amelie was stripped away—all the strategy, all the walls, all the ice, all the _Founder_-_ness _was gone. And Myrnin was taken back to a time when Amelie was small and innocent.

.

As Amelie and Claire waited for an answer from Myrnin, who was looking very pitiful and lonely, the scene shifted, causing Claire to gasp in surprise. The structure of the room they were in disappeared, along with Amelie, and suddenly, there were green hills and multi-colored flowers and a dark castle, far away in the distance. Its presence in the miraculous greenery was unholy; as if it were evil's way of saying not even this perfect meadow was untouchable by darkness.

A large, crystalline lake spread out beside them and Amelie was sitting in the heavenly glow of sunlight. Claire had never seen her under true sunshine, looking absolutely radiant in her worriless manner. Amelie's hair reflected the beams of light and illuminated her whole face—a face on which was a look of true happiness.

Claire would definitely never have dreamed this up.

"Myrnin!" Amelie shouted, who was sitting about fifty yards away. The length of the grass hid part of her form from view, but Claire could see Amelie was wearing a blue dress, the style of it from the fifteen hundreds. Though it looked expensive and too lovely to lie next to a lake in, that's what Amelie was doing.

"Amelie?" Myrnin breathed from beside Claire, who she just took notice of. She realized she had never seen _Myrnin_ under all the sun's brilliance, either. It was the first time she saw the red tints in his dark brown hair, or the hardly-present crow's feet he had around his eyes. If only vampires could walk around during the day without the worry of bursting into flames.

Amelie waved and a large smile spread across her face. "It's lovely to see you, Myrnin," she said in a singsong voice. Claire couldn't help but become confused because Amelie would _never _spoke in such a childish way. Claire also took note of Amelie's very prominent French accent while they drew nearer.

As Amelie saw Claire, her eyebrows furrowed and she lost some of her smile. "Oh, who is this? A new _friend_ of yours?" One of Amelie's brows rose at Myrnin playfully as a side of her mouth tilted up again. But she stood and brushed herself off, holding out her hand to Claire.

"_Bonjour, mademoiselle. Un tel plaisir_. How are you, miss…?" The transformation had been incredible. The joyous Amelie had changed into a younger version of the Amelie Claire knew back in Morganville in an instant.

"Claire. Danvers," she said, caught once again by the Amelie who had been so gentle and loving before becoming Founder.

The side of Amelie's mouth twitched in amusement, either at Claire's belated response or her clear lack of a French surname.

"Wonderful, Miss Danvers. You may call me Amelie." The grin disappeared once again. "I am daughter of the bishop who runs that castle," she said, pointing at the daunting castle behind her. "Unfortunately," she heard Amelie add quietly under her breath.

Myrnin still hadn't spoken. He seemed to be awestruck by the beauty Amelie was radiating under the sun.

"Well, Myrnin? What's the matter?" Apparently Amelie had noticed his silence, too.

"Oh. I've—I've missed this version of you."

The young Amelie's smile was kind. "But we were speaking not a few days ago."

His brows rose. "We were?"

Amelie looked confused now. "Of course. Don't you remember? You were sharing with me the new symbol you created to represent gold with the English letter A in it. The one you said I inspired."

_She's talking about _her _symbol. The Founder's symbol._

Myrnin's eyes went all alight and he smiled widely. "Really, _mon ami_?"

It seemed Myrnin's happiness was contagious, because Amelie returned his smile. "Yes, really. It is quite ingenious. I believe that may have to become something I sign my name with, so that it's official." Her voice dropped an octave and she muttered unhappily, "Of course, my father will probably be upset. But I despise the man anyway, so I could not care any less than I already do."

Just then the wind blew, and the tall grass rippled around them.

Amelie sat back down and patted the grass beside her. "Sit down," she said. "You may as well, Miss Danvers. Any friend of Myrnin's is a friend of mine."

Claire sat and wondered again how this sweet Amelie had turned into such the Ice Queen she was now.

And with that, black swirled around them once again.

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><p><strong>Review.<strong>


	4. It's Not Real

"How did you get out of here last night?" Claire asked Myrnin, looking up at him in the darkness. Her feet felt like they were on solid ground, but the monochromatic theme in this void made her feel like she was reeling.

Myrnin inhaled deeply through his nose, his whole chest expanding with the breath, almost, it appeared, in order to steady himself. He couldn't meet her eyes. Myrnin started to speak, but stopped suddenly. His gaze found hers and then fell away again. "I had to die."

The black world that they were in jolted violently after he said those words and sent Claire and Myrnin stumbling into each other. Claire felt Myrnin's cold hand take hers. He brought her closer to him in the blinding chaos and held her in a protective embrace. A steady, constant ticking—like the count of a clock—echoed loudly in the dark. Whirring soon joined the _tick tick tick_ and Claire's senses were overwhelmed with mechanical dissonance while Myrnin's arms around her did little by the way of comfort.

"What's happening?!" she shouted over the noise.

"I don't know. Perhaps a technical problem with the machine!" he replied just as loudly.

Claire squeezed her eyes shut and then the racket collided with silence. It was so quiet so suddenly that she thought she was still hearing traces of the noise, but it was only in her mind. Claire opened her eyes.

They were back in the real world. She was lying on the ground in a heap next to the cot Myrnin was waking up on. He looked around, taking in his surroundings, and removed the disk connectors from his temples.

"What was that?" she asked him.

"It must have malfunctioned," he replied, eyeing the machine. Myrnin looked back at Claire. After a moment, he said, "Will you tell Amelie?"

Claire gave him a look. _Was he serious?_ "If you're going to try to persuade me not to, I'd suggest not even going there."

Myrnin hung his head. He seemed embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Claire. I never... I just wanted... Well, in any case, I apologize."

She touched his hand that shook slightly where it rested in his lap. He looked up. "It's all right, Myrnin. I understand."

He gave her a small smile and pat her arm. "Thank you, Claire. You're very kind." Myrnin stood and Claire followed. "But I'm sure you have more important matters to attend to—like rewriting the combustion equation into something more detailed, a task I set you to do on Wednesday." He seemed to be back to his normal self, so Claire rolled her eyes; she'd do it tomorrow.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," she said and Myrnin nodded.

"Yes. You can help me move this machine into my storage room for useless inventions. Perhaps someday we will tinker with the concept, but not now. Goodbye, Claire."

She smiled tightly and waved, walking out of the back room and through the lab. Picturing the Glass House as she opened the green portal door, she stepped through and left Myrnin in his lab without noticing the clock that ticked slightly faster than it was supposed to.

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><p>Myrnin sat in his leather wingback chair shrouded in darkness. His hands were pressed against the arms of the chair because if he moved them and held them up to examine, they shook. It was a small tremor than ran through his body, but it was notable for a vampire who had lived more than four hundred years.<p>

Had his theory been wrong? That the dream world was only escapable by death? Myrnin had been certain that there was nothing that could wake him besides dying and unplugging the machine externally. Surely there was no way that—

"Don't you have anything else other than your uninteresting diaries and novels that pre-date back to the sixteen hundreds?"

The voice startled Myrnin. His gaze snapped up to the man standing in front of one of Myrnin's many bookshelves. He was holding a leather-bound tome in his right hand while the left rested lazily on the wood of the shelf. Oliver. Oliver and his ridiculous hair, clothes, and _scent_ was in Myrnin's lab.

"What _are_ you doing here, you wretch?" he snapped, rising to his feet. "What in the name of all that's holy makes you think you have the right to come into my home without warning?"

Oliver tossed the book at Myrnin who was forced to catch it against his chest. He smoothed his hand over the cover of the book to check for possible damage as he glared hotly at the intruder.

"Amelie sent me to see if you wished to have tea with her and Ada," Oliver said, bored. "Tea. Very _Amelie_ of her, don't you think? Personally, I never enjoyed it. Such a long-winded, useless propriety."

Myrnin was frozen. "What did you say?"

Oliver looked at him derision. "Amelie," he said again slowly in a way that suggested Myrnin had forgotten how to speak English, "has sent you. An invitation. To have _tea_. There are two answers to this question: yes or no."

Myrnin's fangs slid out and his eyes flashed red. He backed Oliver into a bookshelf and his hand found the man's throat. "Do not toy with me, Oliver. Amelie and _who_?"

"Ada," Oliver snarled. "_Ada_. Are you deaf?"

Myrnin's grip around Oliver's windpipe tightened. "Do not toy with me, Oliver. I am not something you should provoke, particularly when your attempts to aggravate concern _her_."

A portal opened and the two men were distracted as they looked to where the doorway had manifested. A woman in a purple dress with a high collar and long skirts entered the lab. She wore a silver locket around her neck and her hair was up in a perfect bun. The woman's hazel eyes swept over the laboratory and found Myrnin and Oliver. Myrnin's hand released Oliver's neck.

"Myrnin," she said, "what is keeping you so long?"

He was speechless. The only thought that swam in his head was her name and even then, the two simple syllables—the three letters—were hardly making sense to him.

"Ada?"

A pitiful look crossed her face. "You've been off, haven't you? Off in that other world?"

He hesitated.

Oliver crept out of Myrnin's reach and opened a portal, the flare of energy not even registering in Myrnin's stunned mind. "It won't do to console him any longer, Ada," he said snidely. "I suggest you put the dog down. You're merely dragging out his pain." And he left, the portal snapping shut at his departure.

Ada crossed the room and touched Myrnin's face. Her hand was cool and the familiar hand against his cheek comforted him. "It isn't real, my love. That machine takes you away from me."

"What machine?"

"The one you made to see Morganville's future." She looked into his eyes and made a _tsk_ing noise; she saw the confusion in them. "I've told you again and again, my darling: the future you see is only because you created that machine while certain events were taking place. Once the Founder was told the effects of her causes, that future was avoided. The machine cannot reformulate an alternative future because it is not an intelligent being. What you continue to visit in your mind is now nothing but a dream reality."

Myrnin blinked. "It's not real?"

"No. Of course it isn't." A hard look crossed over her face and her lips became a thin line. "Claire is not real. I am still alive. Or, as alive as any vampire is."

Claire was nothing. She would remain outside of Morganville because the Founder knew if Claire arrived it would be the end of their town. The memories came flooding back and he realized none of it meant anything anymore: Amelie had tracked down Bishop and taken his blood, distributing the cure for the Bishop Disease to all vampires throughout Morganville; the book was destroyed; everything he had experienced was nothing but a bad dream.

"Oh, Ada," Myrnin sighed, sagging into her touch. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed the corner of his mouth. "I was forced to live such a terrible existence. You were gone from me. I was truly insane. There was nothing for me there."

"Hush, my darling. I know," Ada whispered. "I know. I'm here now. Please, don't use the machine anymore. It makes you so sad."

"I won't," Myrnin promised. "I won't."

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><p>When Claire fell through the portal, she was falling, falling, falling. She'd done everything right: opened the green door, imagined the Glass House, and then stepped through. But now she was tumbling through darkness.<p>

Claire was sure she would reach terminal velocity before she made contact with solid ground because she had been plunging downward for at least thirty seconds without any promise of stopping. As she fell, she screamed, because there was nothing else for her to do—nothing to grab onto, no one to call for… nothing. She was going to die.

Adrenaline was rushing through her body and preparing her for impact, but as she continued to descend through the air, her heart beat faster and faster and she wasn't sure she was even going to be conscious when she met the ground. Claire's body was shutting down—she was already going into shock. Her eyelids felt heavy and she felt like she wasn't getting enough air, so she closed her eyes and let herself continue falling as she went unconscious.

.

She woke.

There was no pain. Claire only felt cold cement beneath her body where she lay, folded up in a heap on the floor. She opened her eyes and saw several yellow lightbulbs that poorly illuminated the hallway every few yards. On either side of the corridor, there were cells. In the cells were vampires.

She knew where she was. This was Myrnin's prison for the sick; the vampires' red eyes and displayed fangs gave it away. Their long-nailed hands clutched at the iron bars, trying desperately to squeeze through to get to her—to taste her blood.

Claire stood up and she was shaking. She could barely stand. The vampires hissed and growled and snarled at her, reaching out of their cells to try and make a grab for her. Claire kept herself in the center of the hallway so they couldn't touch her. She called out quietly, "Myrnin?"

There was no answer, only the reinvigorated attempts on the sick vampires' parts to snatch her. She tried calling for him again.

"Claire?" Her name echoed off the stone walls, but she couldn't see where he was.

"Myrnin? Are you there?"

"Over here," she heard.

Claire followed the source of the voice down the row of cells. "I don't see you!"

"To your right."

And there he was. Sitting in a room behind bars. Unlike the cage he'd been in before courtesy of Amelie, this one was completely empty. Myrnin was cross-legged in the middle of the cell and his eyes were reflecting what little light there was in that dark prison, glowing red. Claire had to remind herself to breathe.

He was ratty and unkempt, his hair was tangled and matted. Myrnin's clothes were ripped in places and filthy all over. He wasn't wearing shoes. Despite his fangs and red eyes, he looked calm. His gaze swept over her body from head to toe and a corner of his lips quirked upward.

"I remember you."

"What are you doing down here?"

"I live here, my girl," he replied. "What are _you_ doing down here? You shouldn't be, you know. But of course you know. You always knew. You're very clever."

What was he talking about?

"What's going on, Myrnin?" Claire asked. "What's wrong with you?"

He looked away. "I told Amelie to keep you away from Morganville." Myrnin's eyes found her again. "You are just as I remember."

"What do you mean 'remember'? I was just in your lab—I-I fell! The portal wouldn't let me go through to the Glass House. What was that about?"

"My dear Claire," he said, "the portals haven't worked for a century. When did you arrive?"

"In Morganville? I came here a while ago, Myrnin. To go to TPU, remember?"

Very quickly, he was sad. He hung his head for a moment and then raised it again to look at her. There were tears in his eyes and he was smiling pathetically, the way people smile when they understand a terrible truth and want nothing other than to believe the lie.

"You're in my imagination, it would seem. Of course you are. A brilliant little cherub like you could only be in my mind. Seventy years of this place does that to a man, twenty more and I believe I'll lose my ability to speak. So speak to me, Claire. Let us converse. Even if it is just in my head."

* * *

><p><strong>So... who's still out there reading? Should I keep going? Let me know. It was so much fun revisiting this one.<strong>


	5. Glitch

Claire didn't know what to do. What was he going on about? The portals haven't worked for a century, Myrnin had warned Amelie against bringing Claire to Morganville, and he thought this visit was all in his head?

"I tried to change the future," he muttered.

Her brows knit together. "What?"

His head was lowered again and he looked terribly pathetic in his cell. "I built a machine, Claire. I did it because Amelie needed me to, and I always do what Amelie needs of me. It was my own little project—Ada didn't know about it; she wouldn't have approved.

"I built the machine. It helped me see the future. It was a computer that put together equations and constructed situations based on statistics, and all that used a cognitive link in my mind. I had to be connected to the machine for me to view what was to come, you see, and it took me there. But I had to live through it. I believed it was real because in my head I lived through all of it: the Bishop Disease, the insanity, Claire's arrival in Morganville—all of it." He was talking about her as if she weren't there. "One hundred years in that lifetime was only a few hours in the real world. I lost myself in that reality and couldn't tell the difference between what was true and what wasn't. I stopped using the machine.

"I told Amelie what to avoid and what would become of specific decisions she made at the time. I advised her to find Bishop and destroy him in order to cure the vampires, a sickness that had not yet symptomized in us—Claire was there to help me in that world; I told Amelie to eliminate the _draug_ while the creatures were traveling in a weakened state across the Atlantic, it was a massacre. And what else? Oh yes, I made her promise that Claire Danvers would never be forced into coming to this town."

His eyes met hers and he looked completely sane. She frowned.

"Then how am I here?" she said. "There's a flaw in your story, Myrnin: I've known you for a long time now. You're not sick! We cured the Bishop Disease, remember?"

Myrnin smiled sadly. "Yes, my child. I remember. We did, once in a far—off dream. But it wasn't real. In this world—the _real_ world—I cured the disease too early. Without symptoms, we were not sick. The disease was dormant in our bodies and Bishop's blood only strengthened it. That was the consequence of disturbing the future: many things in Morganville became good, much better than the one I saw in my mind—_your _Morganville, if you will—but there are some things that are also much worse, the disease included."

"_This_ isn't the real Morganville, Myrnin!" Everything was beginning to make sense. For some reason, the logic had somehow gotten hidden in her mind, but now it was here. "This is the Morganville you created with the machine! I have memories!" Claire cried, becoming desperate for him to understand. "If you say it wasn't real, and I'm just a figment of your imagination, then why do I have memories of everything that's happened since the day I stepped foot in Morganville? Getting bullied out of the dorms at TPU, Amelie coming to me at school, meeting you for the first time! I'm real, Myrnin. I'm here!"

The defeated upturn of his lips didn't go away. "You must be a glitch, then. There's no other explanation. A glitch in the coding of the machine—something formulaic, probably." He sighed. "Just... stay with me. It's been so long since something was good."

She was so frustrated. Why wouldn't he believe her?! Claire stepped right up to the bars and wrapped her hands around the cool iron.

"Myrnin! Listen to me. _Please_. Do you trust me?"

He paused and eyed her curiously, but visibly relaxed. His mind seemed to clear and his focus sharpened. "I suppose I do, yes." He stopped to think about it and nodded his head. "I trust you."

"Then, please, trust me when I say _I'm real_."

"Oh, Claire. If you say that once more, I may just believe you."

Just as she started to say something else, a sound foreign to Claire's ears ripped through the prison, tearing her attention away from her vampire boss—her mentor, her _friend_—in his cell. Myrnin got up and joined Claire at the bars to see what the commotion was.

A vampire had twisted the iron away from the lock of his cell and raised his foot to kick the door open. The door flew off with a loud, echoing _bang! _and a cloud of dust. Once the cloud cleared she could see his face better. Claire knew that angelic blond hair anywhere, but the eyes were an unrecognizable red. She screamed.

It was Michael.

* * *

><p>Myrnin was happy. In fact, this may have been the happiest Myrnin had been in a very long time. For years in his mind, he had been tortured by the thought of Ada's final death, but now she was alive. And he was being pulled along by his hand with Ada in the lead as they stepped through a portal to Amelie's office.<p>

The Founder was sitting on a sofa and pouring tea into a delicate china cup. She looked up when they entered, hand in hand. Myrnin watched as Amelie came the closest to an eye roll that she'd come in a long time. Or, what felt like a long time. Perhaps she'd rolled her eyes just yesterday and Myrnin couldn't remember because his time in that possible future world and filled his brain with newer, more recent memories. Memories that weren't real.

"I am perfectly aware that you two are lovers without your announcing it with the hand-holding every time you appear in my presence," Amelie scolded them, half serious and half amused.

He and Ada let go of each other somewhat reluctantly, him more so than her.

"In any case," Amelie continued, "I am happy that you made it. We apologize for the short notice, but Ada and I saw this as a perfect opportunity to discuss Common Grounds." Business as usual.

He looked over at Ada one more time to ensure that she was real. She was. And she was beautiful, too. Her hair was just as it had always been, wrapped up in a tasteful bun with locks of hair too short for the bun framing her face. Her eyes were still the same striking hazel that made Myrnin think of European forests in autumn.

Ada gracefully sat down on the piece of furniture beside Amelie and Myrnin took the armchair adjacent from them. He picked up a cup of tea and sipped, forcing his gaze away from Ada in order to not be chastised again by Amelie.

"I realize," Amelie continued, "that I have called you in each time Common Grounds is discussed, but we have to understand just what kind of purposes it serves. Of course it is a place of neutrality and fellowship among vampires, but what of humans?"

"The neutrality extends to humans," Myrnin answered her. "Vampires and humans in one place, living separate lives, but coming together in a sort of communion." He scoffed. "Oliver ran it, you know."

"Yes," Amelie said thoughtfully. "Well, he must be addressed about it. I doubt that he will have any interest in the saloon whatsoever, but we must give him the chance."

"Saloon?" Myrnin asked.

Amelie eyed him strangely. "Yes. We've discussed this, Myrnin. Because we are beginning the history of Common Grounds earlier than it was in the alternate Morganville you visited, a saloon will blend in with our time period better than a coffee shop." Ada placed a hand on his knee, watching him with a sad look on her face.

The memories came to him just as Myrnin was patting her hand reassuringly. Of course they had discussed that. He remembered.

"There are rules we must establish," Amelie said. "Lines that shall be drawn. Contracts to have signed. But it will all be done." Amelie looked pleased.

* * *

><p>Michael was stalking toward Claire and Myrnin was shouting at him, banging on the bars loudly and trying to distract the golden—haired vampire from Claire. She heard Myrnin mutter to himself, "How strange that you can see her too."<p>

However, Michael had no interest in Myrnin because he was not a walking bag of fresh blood, so Claire ran, her heart pounding in her chest. But soon she saw there was nowhere to go. Only a brick wall. The end of the prison.

Claire turned around when she reached the bricks, backing herself into them and sinking to her knees. She covered her face with her hands. She couldn't believe this was happening. After everything she'd been through in Morganville, _this_ was how she was going to die. In Myrnin's underground jail. And all Myrnin had to say was that she was a figment of his imagination.

Damn.

Just as Michael was reaching for her throat, the ground gave way and Claire was falling again through nothingness. She yelped, but the fear of being drained by one of her best friends far outweighed her fear of falling, so she accepted her fate gladly. Except when she opened her eyes, Claire was sitting in Amelie's office.

"You didn't fall asleep, did you?" Amelie snapped from where she sat behind her desk. Her outfit was a dark red. The color of blood.

"No, of course not," Claire said immediately. "I'm sorry."

Amelie's lips became a thin line. "Your heart is beating so quickly." She lost all of her anger when she said, "Did Myrnin tell you?"

Claire's brows furrowed. "Tell me what? Wait—I was in the prison!" she gasped. "Michael was there and he was chasing me and Myrnin couldn't remember who I was."

Amelie's cold glare fell back into place. "What are you talking about, Claire?"

"I... I was falling."

She gave Claire a skeptical look. "You are spending too much time in Myrnin's lab, it would seem. Air filtration down there is nearly inexistent and the man conducts so many experiments with harmful chemicals; he warned me that someday you may begin complaining about short-term memory loss as well as the feeling of falling—or, as he phrased it, crashing without the preamble of flying. He's become very strange recently," she mused.

Claire eyed Amelie because she wasn't acting like herself. "He's not the only one." Her voice was laced with the suspicion she felt.

In all of the years that Claire had known Amelie, Claire had always had trouble maintaining eye contact with her. But now, the queen was the one looking away, reassuring Claire's sense of misgiving.

"We need your brain, Claire."

Claire's eyes widened and she felt her heart stop altogether.

"But you said—you said you didn't need me anymore."

"I know what I said." The words were not unkind. On the contrary, Amelie sounded quite sad. "But if anything, we need you more than ever, child. Certain events have unfolded and we can no longer rely on Frank Collins's mind to run this town. Morganville's system has grown weaker under Mister Collins's influence; it will take a strong power source to return the town back to its original condition. We have no choice, and I'm afraid to say that you do not either."

Tears sprang to Claire's eyes. "No," she whispered. "No, no, no. This isn't fair. I can't. I shouldn't have to. Please, Amelie, I'm begging you. Don't do this to me."

Amelie couldn't look at her; her brows were together in a poor attempt to control her features that wanted to betray how broken she was feeling. Through her tears Claire couldn't see, but it was true: Amelie did not want to do this.

But wait, this couldn't be real. Claire had just been in Myrnin's underground prison, hadn't she? What was it Amelie said about chemicals messing with her brain? But Myrnin's machine!

"It's not real," she said, blinking away her tears. "You're not Amelie."

That made Amelie look very, very sad. "Child, please, do not make this difficult. I expected resistance, but not denial. You are a smart girl, Claire. You knew that Frank could not support my town indefinitely."

"No. This isn't real. _You're_ not real. I was just in Myrnin's prison! How can this be possible? He built something that took him away into his mind! I'm in it too! This isn't real!" Claire was breathing heavily from the heated defense.

A different voice replied, "It _is_ real, my child."

Claire gasped when she saw Myrnin come out of the shadows. He was still wearing the old, ratty clothes he'd been wearing in his. He was barefoot, too. Michael was there as well, with his red eyes and sharp fangs. He had a grin on his face that was unlike anything Claire had ever seen.

"Michael, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice shaking. "What's going on?"

"I'm here to drink from you, Claire," he said. His words were distorted by the fangs. "Myrnin promised me blood."

Myrnin placed a hand on Michael's shoulder, as if restraining a child. "Not too much, you understand, Michael."

Her friend nodded, eager to begin. Claire shrank back in her chair. She looked at Myrnin who seemed indifferent to what was about to happen. "Myrnin! Talk to me! Why are you doing this?"

He shrugged nonchalantly and inspected his nails. "Survival."

Claire's last hope was Amelie; surely there was someway to appeal to her humanity. "Think of all the things I've done for you and your town! You took away my future at MIT. I—I could have done something for _humanity_! And instead I'm going to die for you—for vampires. Please, don't do this."

Something that looked like guilt flashed in Amelie's eyes for a split second. It was something that would have haunted Claire's dreams, but it was gone in the next moment. The Founder's face hardened. "I must."


	6. Jump, I'll Catch You

Amelie's office door was ajar and Claire ran for it, but the vampires didn't follow her. When she flung the door open it was another version of Amelie's office and Amelie, Myrnin, and Ada were sitting on sofas drinking tea. Claire looked behind her and there was nothing there. Only blackness.

"This isn't real, is it?"

It wasn't much of a question, more of a disappointed observation, but Myrnin saw her and recognition showed in his eyes.

* * *

><p>Myrnin was in the middle of pretending to listen to a boring contract that Amelie was drafting. He honestly did not know why she wanted him there during the early stages of the conceptualization of Common Grounds, because Myrnin was not interested in contracts or making plans that involved Oliver. And unfortunately, sometime during the conversation he was almost sure that Amelie had told him to help clear a section of land for the saloon.<p>

And then Claire ran into the room breathing heavily with tears drying on her face and her heart racing.

"This isn't real, is it?" she said, her voice broken.

Myrnin stood up quickly, upturning the saucer and cup that he had rested on his knee. His fists were clenched.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"You—you know who I am?" She was shaking and looked on the verge of collapse.

"Myrnin, what is going on here?" Amelie said, eyeing the girl like she was a filthy dog that had wandered into the wrong house.

He ignored her and stepped toward Claire in wonder. This couldn't be. Claire was from the future—not even her parents were an _idea_ yet. How could she be here? And if Amelie could see her too, then she was real. She must be.

"What are you doing here?" Myrnin repeated.

"Myrnin?" She was blinking rapidly. Her heart was beating too fast. He watched the girl's knees give out and he used his speed to rush forward and catch her. She was still conscious. She was kneeled over on the all fours hiccoughing and crying. Myrnin rubbed her back to soothe her. She was just how he remembered in those trips to the future: frail, small, and so very human.

From somewhere behind him, Ada asked, "Who is she?"

"Claire," he said. "This is Claire."

"What?" he heard Ada say. She went on, but Claire was fighting through her fit of hyperventilation to gasp something and he leaned closer to hear.

"Myrnin?" she panted.

He listened hard to her faint voice. "Yes? It's all right, I'm here."

"_Get—get the hell away from me_."

Myrnin was so surprised by her words that he didn't act immediately. Was this really her?

"It's me, Claire," he said. "Do you know who I am?"

"Yes." She was sobbing. She leaned back on her heels and turned away from him. She tucked her knees into her chest, turning her back on him and the others. "You brought me here. You—or some other version of Myrnin." Her shoulders shook with herheaving breaths. "I don't know what's real anymore. This is just a bad dream."

It came flooding back to him and Myrnin remembered the lab. He remembered manipulating Claire to make her leave so that he would be alone with the apparatus. He remembered being with her in other false realities—Amelie and the meadow, the Founder mourning the loss of her lover. But those memories weren't his. They were the machine's.

His mouth opened and closed several times before he was able to say, "I am real. I'm Myrnin." Once he said it, he knew it to be true.

She turned around again and asked, _"My_ Myrnin?"

Ada chose that moment to come forward and put a hand on his shoulder. Her nails dug into his skin. "He's _my _Myrnin," she said.

He turned to her and growled, "Not now, Ada."

She took her hand away and hissed back, "I heard the way you talked about her. I know you have feelings for the girl."

"They're not like what I feel for _you_, Ada," Myrnin said under his breath to her, frustrated. "We've been over this—in this world, _and_ the other."

"Tell me," Claire said, unable to hear the whispered conversation between him and Ada. "Tell me something only he would know about me."

"Myrnin," Amelie finally said. "End this. Send the girl away."

But Myrnin ignored her and the room became silent as Myrnin thought. What did he know about her? She didn't like bell peppers, whatever those were. He remembered how her mother made them for her that day he visited her parents' home to tell Mrs. Danvers about her daughter's progress as his assistant. He'd seen Claire's grimace as she walked into the kitchen and inhaled the scent of her soon-to-be dinner. But plenty of people could have known that about her. Wait. He had it.

"You jumped."

"What?" Claire asked.

"I told you to jump. You trusted me, remember? I told you not to trust me, but you did." Myrnin met her tear-filled gaze steadily and urged her to remember. "Two steps to your left, and jump straight forward, hard. I'll catch you. Don't you remember? Underneath the lab? You said, 'Jump? I can't jump, I can't see!' and I said 'I'll catch you.' And I did."

She was smiling, and it brought back memories for him. Of Claire in his lab, teasing him about his old sense of style. Her laughter filling the quiet room after an experiment went horribly wrong and burned a hole in his favorite frock coat. That smile had kept him sane on some of his worst days. How could that not have been real?

Ada's voice broke through his thoughts and she whispered harshly into his ear, "_It is_."

He turned to her and saw a fierce expression on her face. "What is?" He had not said anything out loud.

"This. _Me_." He did not recognize her as her fangs slid down. She wasn't Ada.

That convinced him.

"It's not," he said. "You're not. I wish you were, my darling." He rose to his feet and touched Ada's face and he could see it was not his love; she was indifferent to his touch and her eyes were empty. "I truly wish you were. It seems we are meant to be apart for the rest of our existences. I wish I had been able to save you." He kissed her gently on the forehead and then looked at Claire.

"Imagine someplace new. Something far from here."

* * *

><p>"<em>NO!<em>"

Ada was screaming as Claire took Myrnin's hand in hers and clenched her eyes shut tight. She felt him squeeze her hand gently as the world dissolved and darkness surrounded them once more. Claire opened her eyes and saw a wooden door with a golden handle just a few feet away from where they were still crouched on the ground. She stood up and tugged on Myrnin's hand whose eyes had been closed too. He opened them and Claire could see he was crying.

He wiped his eyes when Claire tactfully looked away and then said, "Where had you been?"

She looked at him again and he seemed to be back to normal, but Claire knew what just happened had been difficult

"I left the lab. I fell into your prison and you were there. You were... you said you changed the future. I mean—you had used a machine to see what would happen, but you had to live through all of it to learn. And you said the Bishop Disease hadn't actually been cured. You were still sick and you were in one of the cells. You killed all the draug. Then—"

"I had to live through it?" He looked like he was piecing together a puzzle in his mind. "I was still sick..." he was muttering to himself. "We killed the draug..."

"Yeah, and you said I didn't exist in Morganville other than in your mind since I was part of the alternate future. I—I was just a dream to you." Claire felt tears well in her eyes again. She couldn't help it.

He was mostly muttering to himself when he said, "You must have seen a version of me if I had stayed in that world. In your time."

She didn't know what he was talking about, but she didn't care. _He was here_. She threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. It took him a moment, but Claire felt him relax into the touch and he wrapped his arms around her. He rested his chin on the crown of her head and they stood like that for a while, grateful for each other.

Claire was crying hard and her fingers were clutching at the front of his shirt, keeping him close. "I'm so glad you're really here," she bawled. "I don't know what I would have done."

Myrnin blew out a heavy breath of air. "I'm here, child. There's no need to cry anymore. I'm here."

She sniffed. "I say I hate you a lot," she said, pulling away so she could look up at him. "I don't mean it. You're a good friend, Myrnin." Claire stepped back and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry about Ada."

He gave her a sad smile, one that reminded her of the Myrnin back in that cell. "It's all right, Claire. That is how we are meant to be."

A moment of silence passed and then Claire pointed. "The door." The golden handle glinted, despite the fact that there was no apparent source of light anywhere in this world of darkness. Now that she was watching, she heard Myrnin whisper slowly, "_Claire..._"

She jumped and felt goosebumps on her arms. "Why did you do that?" she asked him.

Myrnin looked down at her, confused. "Do what?"

She grit her teeth and looked toward the door again. "You didn't do that, did you?" she told Myrnin. It wasn't a question. "Well, here we go." She started walking and Myrnin followed.

When they reached the door standing in the middle of wherever it was they were, Claire reached out for the handle. It was cool beneath her hot palms. She opened it, but despite its well-polished look, the door creaked as if it were ancient.

There was nothing beyond the door, only the endless blackness that had been in the space they were in before they walked through the frame of the door. Claire looked at Myrnin. She stumbled and he caught her.

"Claire, are you—?"

"I'm—"

Her heart rate was too slow and her knees were so weak. She slid to the ground, the air in her lungs coming and going in long, deep breaths. She knew she should be scared, but there was no adrenaline. Claire only felt so, so _tired_. Her eyes couldn't remain open any longer.

As she was closing her eyes, she saw Myrnin seemed to be experiencing the same thing. He looked at his hands, his brows furrowed in confusion. Just as she was drifting off, Claire felt Myrnin shake her weakly. "Claire, wake up."

* * *

><p>She woke up.<p>

Claire was back in the room with the machine. The disks were still attached to her forehead and she felt more awake than ever. She sat up just as Myrnin next to her was stirring. Claire took the wire connectors from her temples and went to Myrnin, touching his shoulder gently.

"Myrnin, wake up."

His eyes flew open and he sat up quickly in the fast, disconcerting way vampires could. He looked around, taking in his surroundings and seeing Claire. He brought a hand to his forehead and touching the disks.

"This is another dream," he said.

"Will we ever get a break?" Claire asked.

He shook his head. "Not until someone from the outside disconnects us from the machine."


End file.
